Falcon’s return to mediocrity
by god-of-crazy
Summary: There can be only one!
1. Ch1 Intro Mode

Smash brothers is the property of Nintendo...**I AM JOR-EL! MASTER OF SCHEDULING!**

Author note: This is somewhat of a spin-off from the lawsuit adventures.

* * *

Within a undocumented lab, a genetically engineered pokemon and a F-Zero racer were waiting for the impending darkness.

Mewtwo was observing the landscape through the window, hands crossed behind his back. The sight of darkness falling across the landscape was invigorating to the pokemon, for the illusion of bestowed invisibility was undeniably intoxicating.

He turned towards the present company.

"Captain Falcon," he called through his telepathy, "are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

Falcon prioritized his beer over responding to the pokemon. When the bottle's contents were nearly empty, he inserted his finger to capture the last drops of alcohol.

Mewtwo frowned and sent a stronger mental burst. "Falcon! Answer my question!"

Falcon stopped and slammed the bottle on a table. He glared at the Pokemon. "You're the F!)#in psychic not me! Anyway, ain't your tests suppose t'say you have a super high IQ, so why did ya ask me?"

Falcon's damaged logic facilities processed his previous words and came to a revelation. He gawked at the pokemon. "You cheated on that test!" He said, nearly shrieking.

He stared at the pokemon with indignation and pointed a finger of accusation. "I'm on to you cheater!"

Falcon slammed the bottle against the table again, smashing it to bits and cutting up his hand.

"See what you made me do," he muttered while trying to stem the flow of blood. "This is the work of your psychic powers!"

He started running around the lab. "Where the hell is that First Aid kit?" He yelled hysterically. "I'm dying!"

The pokemon gave an inward sigh. He regretted ever bargaining with the Nintendo tyrant. Nevertheless, if there were only one person capable of procuring the entire DVD collection of Full Metal Alchemist, free of charge, it would be him.

He exerted his powers over Falcon and hoisted him into the air, and held him upside down. He shook him a little, which caused the racer to vomit.

Mewtwo winched at the grotesque display. _"At least sobriety is no longer beyond him,"_ he mused wirily

He, oh so carefully, slammed him several times against the surface of one of the many stainless steel tables that occupied the lab.

Before Falcon was to slip into the sweet embrace of darkness- unconsciousness to the clueless- Mewtwo desisted in his thrashing and propped him against a cabinet.

He tented his paws and looked sternly at the staggering racer. "Now," he communicated calmly, "are you feeling less infuriated or shall I administer another 'soothing' anger alleviating massage?"

Falcon gave the pokemon a thumb up. "S'ok I'm cool, man!" He slurred out.

Mewtwo's eyes glimmered satisfaction. "Excellent, are the details of the mission still residing in your alcohol drenched grey matter."

Falcon looked at him in confusion. "What now?"

Mewtwo was glad he didn't have teeth, for he would have grinded them into fine powder to vent his stress.

He berated the formerly intoxicated racer. "You brainless Neanderthal," hissed the irate pokemon, "how fortunate for you, and unfortunate for me, that breathing for your species is an involuntary action. I have no doubt you would have suffocated long ago from the lack of knowing how!"

Falcon was still wondering if Mewtwo was addressing him, or to the floating sentient slab of cheese, who was currently doing a wonderful rendition of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_.

Falcon's hesitation told Mewtwo what he needed to know. He decided to imprint the knowledge directly into Falcons mind. He created mental barriers to ward off the infectious stupidity and began transmitting the previous day's event.

* * *

Mewtwo was drifting around the verdant green laws of Nintendo head quarters in a depressed daze. The licensing of Full Metal Alchemist barred the free distribution of the anime by fan subbing communities.

In a rare lapse of judgment, he concluded that by destroying the corporations that licensed Full Metal Alchemist, as well as the parties responsible, the fan subbing would continue. If that failed, well. At least they'll be more hesitant to license anything, those sonuva bitches.

He closed his eyes, and started focusing his psychic energy. The blades of grass beneath him flattened from the sudden force. Immediately, he became enveloped with a blazing aura of prodigious power. So great was this sudden eruption of power, the foundation of the headquarters quaked violently.

He opened his eyes, spilling forth-superfluous energy. Any brave or foolhardy human that looked upon them would swear on their grave that a maelstrom had formed within the iris of the Pokemon.

"The humans, and their greed, shall die tonight!" He proclaimed, followed by a maniacal cackle.

A bucket of icy water was dumped upon his head. The sudden build up in psychic energy diminished at the lost of concentration. He clasps his arms around himself.

A shivering all-powerful pokemon was a humiliating sight, and Mewtwo knew that.

He spun around quickly to face his aggressor. "Who dares administer a prank upon my person?"

His eyes widen, for in front of him was the Nintendo powerhouse, Mr. Tiyamato!

The tyrant of Nintendo gave a short salute. "Sorry," he said sincerely, "but property damage is not good for business."

Mewtwo stood on guard. Tiyamato was not one to trifle with, not even for him. This human's mind was as unreadable as a block of carbon. He bowed his head slightly.

"I apologize for my behavior."

Tiyamato waved it off. "Do not be concern. I completely understand you."

He tapped his own chest. "Why, if I had my ability to emotionally traumatize the characters of Nintendo removed, I go mad with rage."

Mr. Tiyamato started laughing at his own perceived defect. Soon, he's ends up laughing manically while rolling on the ground. Mewtwo never wanted to flee in fear, and awkwardness, from a human until now.

Tiyamato clasped both hands on Mewtwo's shoulders and hauled himself up, face to face with him. All traces of laughter were gone. The face said serious business was about to commence.

"I have a business proposition for you." He said in a somber voice.

Mewtwo bit back the usually sarcastic comment reserved for humans. Instead, he nodded and replied in kind, "what can I do for you?"

Mr. Tiyamato paced back and forth in front of the Pokemon. "As you know, Captain Falcons fell from his plateau of adequacy to being king of the compost heap."

Mr. Tiyamato nodded quickly. "Yes, I know. It's not much of a change, but-"

"You want me to devise a plan to restore his mediocrity, and therefore making him somewhat profitable once more," interjected the pokemon. "And in utilizing me, you can insulate yourself should I fail."

Tiyamato clapped his hands in child-like delight. "Why you're absolutely correct, so will you help me?"

Mewtwo tried conceiving options to escape from Tiyamato. However, in considering Tiyamato's capabilities, a unified field theory based on dice throws was more plausible.

He decided to be straightforward. "I'm sorry Mr. Tiyamato," Mewtwo said in a regretting tone, "but I don't have the time or the patience to-"

Mr. Tiyamato grinned devilishly and threw down his trump card. "I'll secure you the DVD releases of Full Metal Alchemist."

"-Wait any longer. I shall attempt to carry out your wish."

Mr. Tiyamato smiled warmly at the pokemon. "Thank you, Mewtwo. I must go now. I'm going to tie Kirby to a treadmill while hanging a sirloin steak in front of him. He needs the exercise."

He snapped his fingers and in a flash of light, and thunder, disappeared.


	2. Ch2 Community disservice

I do not own smash brothers... 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280348(gasp)(collapses from exhaustion)

* * *

Upon a dry board, Mewtwo carefully dissected and refined his plans. The level of eloquence and thoroughness that was devoted into process of his plans would have others gape in awe at such mastery of thought.

He stood back and admired his work. Than with a sigh, he started to erase the board.

"Hey! What're doing?" Asked Falcon.

Mewtwo chose to ignore him and continued cleaning the board with increasing hostility. At the last stroke of the brush, he braced himself against the board and sighed again.

"You realize that to implement that plan, I need a partner who is not a raging alcoholic."

"I'm not drunk now." Pointed out Falcon.

Mewtwo glared at him. "I also need an accomplice who can recite the entire alphabet of the English language."

Falcon scoffed. "I can do that: A, B-"

"Can you recite it backwards?" He challenged.

Falcon grinned wildly. "Of course I can. It fools the cops…until I crash into their cruisers."

Mewtwo gripped his paw and slapped his head. "Shut up! I don't want any stupidity infecting my perfect mind!"

Both stood in silence, which was broken by Falcon opening a can of Coors.

"So," he asked between sips, "What's the plan, cat."

Mewtwo ignored his verbal jab and pulled out a chalkboard.

"When I was conceiving a plan to restore your tarnished image, what's left of it, I discovered immediately that it would be impossible."

He flipped the chalkboard. There was a drawing of Falcon with a dunce cap while exploring his nasal cavity with a lit bottle rocket. "You're simply too stupid!"

Falcon casually chugged down another can. He let out a loud burp. "Go on."

Mewtwo chucked the chalkboard at Falcon, which broke against his head. "It means that any plan will end in failure!"

The racer choked on a mouthful of beer. "But if you don't do anything, those nuns will beat me to death!"

"You brought that upon yourself!"Mewtwo said with a sneer. "Who in their right mind would try to molest a chaste woman?"

Mewtwo regarded Falcon with glint of darkhumour in his eyes. "Present company excluded, of course."

Falcon fell to his knees and grabbed Mewtwo around the ankles.

"PLEASE!" begged a crying Falcon. "They've started using crowbars. I've been hit in the crotch with nine irons! NINE IRONS! Hell, they even started constructing an automatic beating machine!"

Mewtwo crossed his arms and smiled smugly. "Interesting, I wish the best of luck to them."

"PLEASE! THINK OF FULL METAL… –SOMETHING!"

Mewtwo nearly forgotten about the reward that enticed him into this scheme. He cursed inwardly.

"Very well, I shall attempt to devise the most mundane of tasks that will provide the desirable impact while minimizing the need for you to think."

* * *

"Stretch out please, I'm not rubber man." 

The racer slopped another pile of stew into the bowl of a homeless man. In an effort to defuse the public's scorning, Mewtwo managed to arrange several hours of community service for Falcon. Today, he was working in a shelter for the homeless, serving food that was recently donated by a certain Nintendo tyrant.

A member of the queue tipped his hat. "Bless you, sir."

"Yeah, yeah, get along you bums."

Around noon, Falcon experience sharp hunger pangs. He tapped the shoulder of another volunteer.

"Hey, I'm gonna take a break."

The volunteer nodded and Falcon walked around the counter and through the exit.

Once outside, he started searching for a liquor store. Alas, there was none in sight. Curse those damn merchants. It was always location, location, location.

He started to head back into the shelter, when he spotted a homeless guy sitting in an alley, holding a dark green, thin-necked glass bottle.

He shrugged. "Plan B."

He rubbed some dirt on his face and uniform and walked towards the hobo. He sat right next to him and tried to start a conversation.

"Hey man, since we both are poor, how bout sharing the booze."

The hobo blinked. "Ain't you that disgraced racer?"

Captain Falcon shrugged. "Well, don't I deserve a drink than? Just to remember my glory days?"

The hobo scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose so," he admitted. "Hold this bottle for me, will ya? I'll get ya something."

As soon as the hobo turned his back, Falcon started gulping down the contents.

The hobo turned around, holding a bottle of scotch.

"Here we go," he said with a smile, "this beauty's been aged 17 years and-"

The words died in his throat as he watched the racer drink the entire bottle.

"Good Lord! We've got to get you to a hospital!"

Falcon staggred and struggled to strike his trademark pose.

"SHow...showw M...ne... UR MOoovES!"

* * *

"…Sadly, despite the heroic efforts of the fire department, the fish died shortly after its rescue from the water." 

Tom shook his head gravely. "That is a tragic story there, Diane."

He turned his head towards camera. "On a lighter note, actor Perry Bepper, who was researching a role for a comedy, as an impoverished singing masseuse, came to the aid of the disgraced racer, Captain Falcon."

In right corner of television, a mugshot of Captain Falcon was displayed . "The racer consumed the contents of a prop, which contained pure alcohol."

Tom chuckled loudly. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that Mr. Bepper would've been more of a hero if he had left the racer vomiting on the sidewalk."

"Tom," interrupted his co-anchor, "your disdain for life disgusts me."

"Diane," he scolded, "you got to know your role. Don't forget, I'm the man here."

The countenance of his partner flushed red with rage. "Is that why you never show any respect for me, Tom? It's all because I'm a woman!"

"That's not entirely true, Diane." Replied her partner, with a casually tone. "I respect you moderately more than the hookers I slept with."

"Bite me, Tom! Every single one of those whores was crying when they left your room!"

"I'm surprised you could hear that crying, Diane. With the ruckus made by the men parading into your room, I'm surprised you noticed anything else!"

Diane grabbed a pair of brass knuckles. Tom eyes widen at her implement of pain. He bolted, prompting Diane to chase after him.

"Tom, You can just go Fu-!" (click)

Mewtwo switched the T.V. off. He shifted his gaze to the bed-ridden racer.

"I suppose this is an unfamilar scenario to you," said the Pokemon, sarcastically, "for this MUST be the first time you've been treated for alcohol poisoning."

Falcon just blinked in response.


	3. Ch3 Tax dollars at work

Sorry for the late updates. I've experienced a massive writer's block. That and ninjas attacked me...

* * *

Somewhere in deserts of Nevada, Falcon was motoring along a road in his geo station wagon. He stuck out his head and breathed in the fresh air. 

_(Wah…what's goin on?)_

He frowned as he noticed his speed was around 60 miles per hour. The signpost clearly stated the speed limit at around 30. Quickly he eased off the gas and tapped the brakes.

_(The only thing I slow down for is gas, beer, and babes!)_

"AHHHHH!" He proclaimed. "It's so nice to slow down and watch life pass you by."

(_…)_

Soon he came upon two young women flagging him down. He could tell their car had mechanical trouble by the raised hood. He pulled over and got out of his car.

"Hi," said the incredibly gorgeous brunette. "We're two highly promiscuous, and curious, women stuck on the road. Can you help us?"

(Hubba-hubba)

Her blond friend just nodded dumbly.

Falcon prided himself of his chivalry, so of course he was all too glad to help. He stuck his head under the hood and began inspecting the engine.

"Here's the problem," he said after a minute of inspection. "There's no engine."

(_Sigh, women and cars.)_

The brunette punched her cohort softly on the arm. "SEE, I told you it needed an engine."

The blond just smiled vapidly.

"Don't worry, I can both give you a ride in my Geo."

(_AKA, the loser mobile)_

The two girls squealed in delight. They gathered their backpacks from their 'car' and piled into Falcon's.

Many, MANY, hours of driving later 

They arrived in Las Vegas, city of sin. Here was the destination of the two young women. They exited the car and grace Falcon with a seductive smile.

"Thank you so much, Captain Falcon," gushed the brunette. "If there's anything, and I mean ANYTHING, you want it's yours."

(SCORE!)

Falcon grinned, for this was his chance. He pointed at the blond.

"Can you-give me a bottle of water? I'm dying of thirst."

_(NO, YOU F()(!IN IDIOT!)_

"Sure thing." Replied the brunette. She handed him a bottle of water from her backpack.

"Here you go. Anything else?"

_(HOT MONKEY SEX!)_

Falcon smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't want to trouble you further. Have a good time in Las Vegas."

_(-SOBBING-)_

The twosome grinned and replied in unison. "Don't worry, we will."

(-_Further sobbing-)_

Falcon turned his car around and drove away from Las Vegas. After a few miles, he broke the seal of the bottle and unscrewed the cap.

"AHHHH, no other liquid refreshment can beat water."

He started drinking voraciously.

(NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)

**NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

(**CLANG)**

Falcon fell back onto his bed, still drawing ragged breathes. A dented bedpan was in Mewtwo's paws. He chucked the metallic toilet away, hitting an elderly man in the process.

"Dang nabit," cursed the old man, "in my day, the youngsters didn't throw used bed pans at their elders."

Mewtwo whirled quickly and glared murderously at the old man.

"Silence!" He commanded.

"Yes sir," whimpered the old man, who quickly slinked away.

Falcon grabbed Mewtwo. "What the F( #( was that!"

Mewtwo batted away Falcon's hands. "What are you gibbering about?" He inquired.

"It was!..ah..uh." He realized revealing his nightmare to a malicious psychic would mean repeats.

"Never mind," He said gruffly, "It's nothing important."

"Very well," replied Mewtwo. He turned away, barely containing his grin. Sometimes, it was good to be petty.

* * *

Several hours into the day, Mewtwo decided to calculate the damage to the racer's image. He read several entertainment magazines, scanned through the television networks, and surfed the Internet. Falcon meanwhile discovered the reclining remote for his bed. 

"Bed goes up. Bed goes down. Bed goes up. Bed goes down."

Falcon was having the time of his life. The remote provided so much fun. One button made the bed descend, and the other made it go up. Why, with these options, the sky was the limit to what he could do.

Mewtwo promptly left the room, leaving Falcon to his fun, or eventual enlightenment. After all, what comes up must come down.

Lunchtime rolled in, and a smiling nurse came to him bearing a tray.

"Hello, Mr. Falcon" said the cheerful nurse. "I have your lunch prepared for you."

Falcon dropped the remote and grabbed the tray. He started chowing down.

"Say" said Falcon, between mouthfuls"you look familiar."

The nurse nodded. "I'm nurse Joy from insert Pokemon city> ."

Falcon gave a lewd grin. "I remember now. Me and Brock tried to hit on you Joys." He frowned a little. "Than you all started macing us."

Falcon, being too absorbed in his remembrance, failed to notice Joy curling her lips, baring her teeth in anger; or the flames that were rollicking on her flesh; or the group of fan boys that were vaporized by her heat vision.

Falcon came back to reality. "Hey," he said, while sniffing the air, "do I smell a barbeque? Anyway, can you do something about this bed? It's not rising fast enough for me. Ya know what I mean, babe? I'm a racer; I need speed."

Joy smiled. "Of course I do, Mr. Falcon. I'll get someone right away."

Falcon waved his thanks. Joy turned her back and walked away rapidly. She cackled wickedly.

* * *

In a dank laboratory under the hospital, for thepeople without health insurance, a doctor and his associate were trying to bring a dead man back to life. 

"IGOR!" Shouted the gaunt and deranged 'doctor.' "It is time! Throw the Switch!"

'Igor' ignored him and took out a defibulator. He charged up the paddles and applied them to the flat lining patient.

"Clear!"

The burst of electricity restarted the man's heart.

'Igor' checked the vitals. He gave a thumb up to the doctor. The doctor nodded sombrely. "Excellent, Igor! I see our resurrection machine is working nicely."

The associate shook his head. "My name is Tofu, Dr. Tofu, and for the last time, these are defibulators."

Tofu pointed to a large machine with several Tesla coils integrated onto its exterior. "Your 'resurrection machine' just shot lightning at people."

"Thus resurrecting them and saving them from the clutches of Death!" Countered the 'doctor.'

Dr. Tofu just waved offthe lunatic. "Whatever, I'm getting something to eat."

On his way up the spiral staircase, he met Joy.

"I see that Brock is back," he said, remembering that day of fire and mayhem.

"No," replied Joy, "but it's someone who could be his brother."

Tofu nodded. "Just try and keep the hospital in one piece."

Joy gave the good doctor a sweet 'would I do that' smile and went by him.

* * *

"There we go," declared the mad 'doctor,' "the finishing touches to my machine of _DOOM_!" 

Falcon jerked his head up. "What?"

Joy shoved the 'doctor' out of the window: The _third_ story window.

Joy quickly pressed the remote into Falcon's hand. "He was just joking!" she said, with a forced smile. "Now you have a nice time playing with that remote." Joy turned and walked away, making sure to disable the call button on Falcon's bed.

Falcon quickly killed the nagging doubts and thumbed the remote.

"Bed goes-GacK!"

The bed folded in half, trapping the racer. His muffled voice could still be heard.

"Hello! Hello! Joy, Mad Doctor. …….Mewtwo……"

Then the bed started drawing bolts of lightning.


	4. Ch4 Huh?

I don't own Smash brothers. Take this ninjas! (Shoots them in the crotches)

* * *

The receptionist computed the final items on the bill. "With the nutritional supplements, that comes up to 50000 dollars. Will that be cash, credit or cheque?" 

Falcon grabbed the bill and read it to see if it was a joke. It wasn't.

"I spent only two days here!" He argued angrily. "Why am I getting charged 50000 dollars to have my stomach pumped?"

"Because I hate you," she said, with a smile.

Falcon waved the bill in her face. "I'm going to complain to the head of this hospital."

The receptionist smiled darkly at Falcon. "You should know that the head of this hospital is one nurse Joy. The nurse part is only a show of affection by the staff."

Falcon opened his mouth to say something. He failed to make a croak. Conceding to the witch, he pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card.

The nurse took the card, glanced at it, and giggled.

"I'm sorry sir," she said, her voice cracking from restraining her laughter, "we don't take _Discover."_

* * *

Falcon grumbled straight out of the door. A paramedic team nearly ran into him. 

He spotted Mewtwo near the drop-off zone. He jogged up to him.

"Okay, now that you're here lets get the hell outta this dump. Where's the car?"

Mewtwo looked at him quizzically. "I do not own an automobile," he said, in a matter of fact manner.

Falcon felt the urge to punch the Pokemon. "Well, smart guy, how the hell are we going to get back to the lab?"

Mewtwo pointed across from the hospital to the other side of the street. Falcon followed its direction to a throng of people standing by a metallic pole.

"No," gasped Falcon, in terror, "I will NOT do THAT. No way, uh-uhn, nOOOo!"

* * *

"I can't believe I'm riding on the bus," lamented a depressed Falcon. 

Everywhere he looked, people, ordinary PEOPLE, who weren't rich our extremely beautiful. Sure, they were kind, understanding and intelligent, but they _weren't _beautiful, which was the most important trait in his book right after being rich.

He bowed his back and cupped his face in his hands.

"This is the most shameful moment of my existence."

Mewtwo crossed his arms and sneered. "Now you know how your Mother feels."

Falcon jerked his head up and eyed murderously at Mewtwo.

"That's it," he jabbed a finger at the Pokemon, "you're going down, you genetic freak."

Mewtwo cracked his knuckles. "I think you're talking about yourself."

And so, not for the first time, a fight began to take place on the bus. For the first time, an axe wielding manic stopped the fight.

"_YOU," _he screamed, nearly incoherent,_ "ARE BOTH GOING TO DIE HORRIBLE DEATHS!"_

Falcon shrieked and ran to the back. Mewtwo casually flicked his fingers. The manic crashed through the roof, where a marching elephant parade trampled him.

"Yay!" Cheered the bus occupants.

"BOO!" Heckled Falcon.

* * *

"I can't believe you're getting an award for bravery." 

Mewtwo scoffed at Falcon's comment. "It's only natural that I, a superior being, can attain your species' accolades with ease. Your standards are pitiful."

Falcon sulked for several minutes.

"So," asked Falcon, "what's next?"

Mewtwo materialized a sheet of paper listing Falcon's duties.

Falcon grasped the paper and read it. He looked up and stared at the Pokemon.

"An orphanage?"

"Yes," said the Pokemon in a snide tone, "another generation of children, corrupted with idiocy." He grabbed the paper and crumpled it in anger. "Apparently the people of the community service board want your special brand."

"Wow," falcon uttered, "me speaking to kids." Falcon could imagine their adoring eyes, their questions for their hero.

"Dream on," said the Pokemon, piercing Falcon's daydream.

Falcon glowered at the Pokemon. "Keep out of my mind!"

Mewtwo shuddered. "You're mind is a wasteland of beer and porn. I would not even consider lightly probing your casual thoughts."

"Insult me all you want," responded an elated Falcon, "At least I have a generation of kids to inspire."

As Falcon continued talking away, Mewtwo materialized a cell phone.

"Hello, community services? I like to make changes for one Captain Falcon. His real name? I do not think he has one. Just look under Falcon, Captain. I am sure you will find the files I'm requesting."

* * *

"So," said a person, who was eerily similar to Mario, "I said, 'buddy, Mario will always jump higher. Those losers just say Luigi jumps higher cause they suck!'" 

Falcon continued fighting against the drowsiness that threatened his hold on the waking world with another sip of coffee. Somehow, Mewtwo managed to get him certified to deal with people with unhealthy obsessions with Nintendo and its characters.

Currently, he was in a rented apartment suite, courtesy of Nintendo. He was in a counsel session with four people. Three were carbon copies of SMB characters. The last one was from the Legend of Zelda.

The Luigi impersonator jumped out of his chair. "Buddy," he threatened, "Luigi will ALWAYS rule! Never forget that!"

The other person leapt out of chair. "You want a fight!"

'Luigi' brought his fists up.

"BRING IT!"

"MORTAL KOMBAT!"

They started slapping and throwing objects at each other. Right beside the fight were two more people that were discussing abouttheir favourite characters.

"So than I said, 'Princess Peach would win a fight against princess Zelda because she wears pink.'"

"No WAY! Princess Zelda would beat that whore with one hand behind her back!"

"You take that back, you hooker!"

"Make me, you bitch!"

They started slapping and ripping each other's clothes off. This caught the attention ofthe 'Mario' brothers, who stopped and paused.

"Holy shit, 'Zelda's' got a fine ass," said the Luigi impersonator.

The Mario clone gapped at his 'brother.'

"You traitor," he accused, "what about our princess!"

"Bite me, 'Brother!'"

They verbal exchange re-ignited their fight. When the 'princesses' noticed their momentary leering, they started wailing on them. It became an all-out brawl within seconds.

Falcon checked digital clock on the wall and got up.

"Well," he said, to the still fighting group, "this session is over. Just remember whatever the hell you people said a while ago. I know I don't care."

He went towards the suite entrance and got into an elevator.

On the way down, he thought of Mewtwo laughing at him. Still, he wondered how Mewtwo managed to get him into this mess, and what did he do in exchange?

* * *

"Okay everyone," announced the orphanage caretaker, "it's time to say good-bye to Mr. Mewtwo." 

The kids groaned at this unwelcomed news.

"Now kids," chided the caretaker, "we're fortunate that he spent so much time here, so say goodbye."

They all waved to him and said a collective good bye.

Mewtwo raised a paw and smiled. "Farewell, children."

He rose up into the air and sped offtowards the lab.

"_Well,"_ he reflected pleasantly, "_that wasn't as bad as I expected."_


	5. Ch5 modifications

This chapter is a little short, so I'll tell you all a tale about a weird dream I had. I was riding in this large contraption that was like a cross between a raft and an inner tube. It's something out of an amusment park. I know I saw it before,but I can't remember. It was going through a tunnel of water. It was dark, but that was okay since there was a lamp in the middle. I was sitting in one of the seats, strapped in,and across me, in there repective seats, were some of the cast of "Just Shoot Me" and detective Horatio from "CSI: Miami." Oh, and there was this one guy that was floating upside down above us. I didn't know who that was. Anyway, 'Nina' starts yelling at me about how she finally got here life together after her drug and alcohol binge.

Thats when the dream ended. Weird, ain't it?

I don't own smash brothers.

* * *

Mewtwo carefully wielded the last ROM chip onto the circuit board. He closed the outer casing and hooked up a diagnostic jack from one of the super computers in the lab. He ran a few simulations to test the devices boundaries. 

He read the data readout from the screen and concluded that it would have to do. If he modified the behavioral programming to beset withsterner parameters, it could possibly kill Falcon. To quote Tiyamato, "it would be bad for business."

The deal would have fallen through, and Mewtwo hated to think what Tiyamato would do if he found his source of spare change with his brain liquefied on the floor.

He hefted the device once more, and headed towards the recreation area.

The area was the brainchild of Falcon, who demanded to have access to his wrestling shows.

"How have you not come to your senses regarding this show," he recalled asking the racer.

To that the racer replied, "What do you mean?"

He remembered mimicking him in mockery than responded, "The matches are all staged. The winners are pre-determined by the writers."

At that point, Falcon plugged his fingers into his ears and started singing. "_Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow,"_

Mewtwo quickly banished that memory. That asinine chanting was a travestyto the art of music.

He floated to Falcon and dropped the device inhis bowl of popcorn.

Falcon picked it up between his thumb and forefinger.

Its appearance was unremarkable. It was circlet, about two centimeters thick. It was gray in colour. Dull, dull, and dull.

"What's this piece of crap do?" he asked.

"This piece of 'crap,'" said Mewtwo, doing the quotation signs with his paws, "as you so succinctly described, will be your savior."

Falcon starred at the device that at Mewtwo. He pointed a finger at it.

"Jesus is in there?" he said, awe in his voice.

Mewtwo slapped the back of Falcon's head.

"No, you moronic fool. You place this circlet upon your head. The device will make you civil, suppress your chronic need to fulfill your alcohol needs, and enhance your intelligence."

Mewtwo took moment to consider what he said. "I suppose it is the antithesis of the television. Here, place it on your head."

Falcon removed his helmet and slipped on the circlet. Mewtwo starred in astonishment.

"This is beyond words! You look exactly like-"

"I would appreciate it as a sign of generosity if you made no further comments about my appearance," said an even-tempered Falcon.

Mewtwo smile stretched from cheek to cheek.

"Excellent."

* * *

"Yes it's true," said Falcon before a press conference. "I have finished my rehabilitation a day ago. I'm eager to become a productive member of society once more." 

While Falcon was answering the crowds of reporters, Mewtwo was behind the curtains, conversing with Mr. Tiyamato.

"Well," said a grinning Mewtwo, "I held up my end of the bargain. May I please have those DVDs now?"

Mr. Tiyamato was not sharing his feelings of merriment. He was frowning, deep in thought.

Mewtwo wiped the grin from his face. "Is there a flaw in my plan?"

Mr. Tiyamato nodded slightly. "I think there is, but I cannot determine what it is. Nevertheless, my instincts tell me that we're in for some trouble."

He signaled to his attack ninja to accompany himas he left the news conference.

Mewtwo brooded upon Tiyamato's words. What problem could there be?

* * *

Two fraternity brothers were lounging around in a bar. They slowly nursed their drinks. One drank a Jack Daniels; the other had scotch, neat. 

"So," said the taller of the two, "do you think they notice the frat house brunt down?"

The second one shrugged.

"I hope not," he answered, "because they'll be looking for us next."

The tall one took out a kit-kat bar.

"I think it's time for a break."

The shorter one nodded. "I can't argue with that logic."

Before they could enjoy a well-deserved break, the doors of the bar busted open. He was clothed in tattered rags and his helmet had breaches in several areas, allowing bits of greasy hair to poke through.

He dashed up to the counter of the bar, startling the tender. He slammed both fists upon the oak and howled.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOZZZZZZZZZZZEEEEEEEEE!"


	6. Ch6 confrontation

srehtorb hsams nwo t'ond I

* * *

Mewtwo was humming an opera piece he recently listened to the other day. While, humming he was brewing a cup of English tea. 

He poured the contents of the boiling kettle into his cup and dipped in the tea bag.

He sat on a leather chair, reclined it, and turned on the television.

He turned to the news broad cast.

"…thus bringing the latest 'tickle-me-Kirby' fatality total to 5000."

"Tom," asked his co-anchor "was any of that true."

A long silence between the two occurred. Finally, Tom's head bowed in shame.

"No, none of it is true. I just wanted to be big-shot, that's all."

He walks off screen, sniffling, and while still on the air.

Diane, bewildered, manages to recover.

"This past week, a mysterious man has been invading local bars, consuming massive quantities of liquor without payment."

Mewtwo nearly lost his grip on his cup of tea.

"He is described as an alcoholic…"

She turns her head off screen.

"Oh, that is just brilliant journalism!" she berated sarcastically, "While we're at it, why don't you F(#)# morons, find out if these bars happen to also serve beer! God, do your degrees mean anything?"

"Diane," said her producer, "we're still on the air."

Diane quickly turned back to the camera, cleared her throat and continued the report.

"The suspect has been known to harass women, particularly of any faith that practices celibacy. His physical description is that of a homeless man. His only distinguishing feature is his red helmet, which has several breaches throughout the topical area."

"I can think of several breaches made to our co-anchor," whispered a stagehand to another.

Diane brought out her brass knuckles.

"You're going to be the corpse for the next CSI!"

He ran screaming as Diane leapt over the table, knocking over the camera. The screen immediately displayed a technical difficulties bulletin.

Mewtwo contemplated the recent news. Apparently, Mr. Tiyamato was correct in his assumptions that the device had a flaw. However, the device should have made it impossible for Falcon to be anything other than the specimen of civility he was at the press conference. He set aside his tea and headed to where Falcon was residing.

Falcon was currently reading a book of poetry by Byron. He looked up and gave a wave of greeting.

"Hello Mewtwo, how may I help you?"

"I need to run some test on the circlet, for I believe the device may have corrupted data."

Falcon nodded and accompanied Mewtwo to the electronics department of the lab.

* * *

Mewtwo finished analyzing each section of code from the circlet. It was perfect, as he expected to be. He checked the operating processes of the circlet. Once again, it showed a flawless harmony of engineering and art. 

So what was the problem? There can't be two Falcon's running amok in the city. He decided to place a hidden camera in Falcon's sleeping quarters. He also placed on Falcon's helmet.

Now he needed to wait and see.

* * *

Mewtwo brewed a cup of tea before checking the recording for the night. Using his telekinesis, he rewound the tape recording, turned on the television, and pushed play. 

The first few hours were just of Falcon snoring. Mewtwo forwarded a few hours and pushed play again.

The tape showed Falcon absent from his bed.

Mewtwo pushed rewind, and watched the twisted events that transpired in reverse.

"_Huh_," thought Mewtwo, amused, "_Falcon pulled a Mr. Hyde." _

It made sense. The circlet wasn't design to eliminate Falcon's ID, it was design to suppress it. Mewtwo unknowingly compressed a whole day of a boozing, womanizing Falcon into a couple of hours.

Mewtwo paced the lab. A shit storm was on the way. It wouldn't take long to identify Falcon. How many lunatics wore red helmets with a tinted visor? Once they realize a machine was responsible for the redeemed Falcon, his reputation will be in the gutter.

It was time to bail. It was fun, but a genius can only do so much before everything implodes and collapses into a black hole.

He went outside and prepared himself for flight. Immediately, Tiyamato appeared right before him.

"Giving up so easily, Mewtwo?" asked Tiyamato.

Mewtwo regarded him with anger. "What do you want me to do?" He demanded. "There are some aspects of this world that even I cannot change!"

Mr. Tiyamato gestured to him to calm down. "Relax, I have a plan. Though I am sure you will despise it as if it came from the mouth of Giovanni."

After hearing Tiyamato's plan, Mewtwo could not be more shocked if the Nintendo tyrant sprouted a dragonhead and started dancing to Britney Spear's shoddy music.

"Our agreement was that I would restore Falcon's mediocre image." Mewtwo thumbed at his chest, "I remember quite clearly that my dignity was not on the line!"

"You are one of the most powerful psychics, Mewtwo. You can pull this off without anyone knowing it was you."

"Besides," said Tiyamato, eyes glinting with confidence, "would you say no to a professionally subbed DVD collection of Full Metal Alchemist?"

* * *

Captain Falcon was not feeling quite content. The booze he had been drinking just made him thirstier. All the women that ran screaming from him did little to help his fledging self-esteem. 

If only they gave him a chance. Sure, he was grotesque and his breath could be mistaken for a black dragon's, but he….

He stopped to think. Did he have any good points? He shrugged and continued running around like a manic, searching for a bar.

He found a nightclub that was still running in late this night. It was perfect, booze and women aplenty. He ran towards the entrance, knocked out the bouncer and broke through the door.

The patrons that were dancing to a dance track, stopped screamed in terror when they saw the disheveled and drooling man. He went up to the counter and pounded the counter.

"BOOOOOZZZ-"

"I think it's time for the drunk tank, you blight."

Falcon turned his alcohol-addled mind to the entranceway. He gaped and stuttered in surprise. It was he! He was in the doorway, but it cannot be him, he was at the counter.

There were two Falcons.

The Falcon in the entranceway gestured for the other to come forward. "Why don't we take this outside? We'll see who the real one is."

The Falcon at the counter pounded his chest and charged at his duplicate. He dodged out of the way and started dashing down the street.

They both ended up at a Hollywood premier of Angst Man. One of the reporters was interviewing the director, Rui N. Comik

"So, instead of crafting the movie according to the comic book structure, I decided to take some creative liberties. For instance, Angst Man is not the angst-ridden and engrossing character that people would find fascinating and come to love. I thought it would be best if I did a 180 and transform his outlook on life to a more positive tone as well as make him so shallow, my integrity would have more depth in comparison. I also thought the plot was far too well-constructed; therefore, I just cut it out and replaced it with CG explosions and scantly clad women. Everyone likes that, right?"

At that moment the two Falcons', grappling with each other, crashed into the director. The director landed on poll, which was inexplicably sharpened to a fine point. It pierced his chest and shredded his heart. He pulled himself upwards and waved to everyone.

"I'm okay," he shouted. "It's my least used organ!"

The crowd's attention, however, was concentrated on the two Falcons. One was noble and the other was a slob. Though the noble one was connecting most of his strikes, he was tiring. The slob was so drunk, he couldn't feel much pain. Of course, that did not help his hand to eye coordination.

Both fighters, feeling their strength nearly depleted, coincidentally charged up a Falcon punch. When their fists met, an explosion rocked the gathering crowds. When the smoke cleared, there was only one.

"What happened?" he asked, dazed, "where am I?"

A female entertainment reporter walked up to him and knelt beside him. "You're at the opening of Angst Man," she answered.

Falcon looked her up and down. "Hey babe," he whispered in a husky voice, "wanna do the horizontal dance with me?"

She, and others, promptly started beating him.


	7. Ch7 finishing move

I do not own smash brothers. ERJG:RKLGJWKJgjrk;glbeh.

* * *

"…According to the interview of Mr. Tiyamato, Falcon, took desperate measure to try and rehabilitate himself. .One of the avenues that he undertook was to split his personality. Apparently, public interest groups are to blame for creating so much pressure on him to change.That's quite extreme isn't Tom?" 

Tom quickly shoves awayhis bottle of booze. "That's right, Diane. Thepeople have described him as his usually self. But many are convinced that the goodness still resides within."

"Including you, Tom?"

"Not really, Diane. It's in the same way I consider you. Deep down inside, your nothing but a bitch."

"And deepdown inside, Tom, you're nothing more than panty wearing mamma's boy."

"Good-night," they spoke simultaneously, "and have a pleasant tomorrow."

Mr. Tiyamato flipped off the T.V.

"You see! Everything turned out all right. There isnow _some _sympathy for Captain Falcon."

Mewtwo grudgingly agreed. His wounds were minimal, so it was easy to heal. And he was right; no one suspected that he was in fact Falcon's duplicate. Though, transmuting himself was quite arduous.

He held up a hand, palm upward.

"May I have my DVDs now?"

Mr. Tiyamato nodded. "Of course, you may."

He snaps his fingers and a ninja deposits a DVD box collection into his hand. He tossed it to Mewtwo.

"Enjoy," said Tiyamato.

Mewtwo said his thanks and headed off to the laboratory. Falcon may have been an idiot, but the recreational center was top-notch. Where was he anyway?

* * *

"So we decided to forgive you, for the past, Mr. Falcon." 

Falcon smile stretched across his face. The nuns decided to let bygones be bygones. All he had to do was meet the person he harassed and say sorry. Some things were just too easy.

He struts right into the church and encounters darkness.

"Hello," he bellows.

Suddenly the lights flare on. In front of him was a miniaturized version of the Gundam Wing Zero.

"Oh no!" mutters Falcon.

The cockpit opens and he could see the woman he harassed. She smiled, gave a little wave, and then closed the hatch.

The mobile suit's eyes flared green before it sprung into action. It pounds its Gundamnium fists and charges at Falcon.

"Eep!" squeaked Falcon.

**CRASH!**

* * *

_Whatever, _thought Mewtwo. He did his part, and now he wanted to forget everything that transpired. He popped in the DVD, reclined in the leather chair, and sipped his tea. 


End file.
